


Detroit: Become Reaper

by othersin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Ghosts, Human, M/M, No Androids, Reapers, Restless spirits, supernatual - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:07:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21804913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/othersin/pseuds/othersin
Summary: The reapers walk the mortal realm to console, guide and purify the wayward souls that are unable or unwilling to move on. Depending how violent or traumatic the death, it can warp the souls and corrupt them – making them anchored to the mortal realm. It is up to the reapers to sever those ties to assist them to move on or destroy them if they become evil leeches on the living they torment.Connor, one of reapers, had made it his mission to purify and console the still living soul of a Hank Anderson – with his job, alcohol dependence and suicidal tendencies the human is becoming dangerously close of being led astray and even becoming corrupt once he passes away.Connor however becomes side-tracked by all of what Hanks world offers, sentimentality and feelings getting the best of him – delaying the others death time and time again. It doesn’t take long for his brothers and Amanda to notice his distraction.
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor, Markus/North/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Markus/Simon (Detroit: Become Human), Upgraded Connor | RK900/Gavin Reed
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Detroit: Become Reaper

Hank stared at the gruesome scene before him and tried not to breath in the smell that exuded from the large rotting corpse that was slumped on the ground – he was too fucking hangover to deal with this shit.

It was a fucking mess, the unlucky sod looked like he lost a fight badly with 28 stab wounds – he would’ve been in pain till the last drop of blood pooled out beneath him. Bastard had it coming though, he was known to the police as a red ice dealer and associated with a human trafficking ring run by the criminal syndicate.

Cyberlife had originally created the base product of red ice by accident, thirium, a Fluro blue liquid that has the untold potential for machinery – the company had high hopes to replace old energy resources with their own “clean” alternative, even in theory the company could even use it to boost their research in robotics. However, with a couple of corrupt dealings by the CEO and one of their first prototype models decided to kill one of the main investors prized dog the company completely let go of that dream.

Probably one of the disgruntled members of the research team when they were let go had taken the formula with them and tried to repurpose their hard work for some money – and they created quite a lucrative and new drug.

Hank sniffed and turned away from the scene, only to come face to face to the fresh-faced new recruit that Fowler sidled him with – the red haired and freckled young man just infuriated Hank. Something about him and his unending optimism and lifestyle just ticked the grizzled officer to the point where just the mere sight of him made him want to punch him

“Looks like a struggle took place.” He unhelpfully stated the obvious, bright green eyes so cheerful and optimistic – not fitting for a murder scene

“No shit sherlock.” Hank rolled his eyes at that, walking off – ignoring the disheartened look that came across the others pale face.

“Hank, I would appreciate if you would if you called me by my name, Samuel.” Samuel said good naturally, the usually good-natured man deminer flickering briefly in the crease of irritation.

“And I would appreciate if you called me, Lieutenant Anderson but yet you still persist…” Hank muttered with a tight grin, he was too hangover to deal with Sam’s shit now

“My apologies Lieutenant.” Samuel considered, walking off – muttering about going to talk with the forensic team that had just walked in with the bright yellow scrubs.

“Hey Hank, you think you can stop being an arsehole to the new guy for at least one day.” Tina huffed next to the older police officer, wearing her uniform but having the foresight to wear a plastic raincoat

“Like anyone else doesn’t get pissed off about him.” Hank huffed, like others dismissive attitude allowed him to act the same.

“Yeah, but you got to at least pretend you don’t want to punch him in the face.” Tina huffed, “Besides, you don’t know when the quiet one’s snap.”

“Snap? The kid probably has bible study and his ma probably sets him on play dates with the cream of the crop.” Hank shrugged, “Sorry if I’m not going to play nice because of some rich kid deciding he wants to play cop.”

“So much for not being an arsehole…” Tina sighed, nose winkling at smell and turned to the crumpled body.

“Speaking of arseholes, where is Reed – I was hoping he would grace us with our presence.” Hank continued, sarcasm dripping in his tone.

“He was called to the other side of town; you know Carl Manfred?” Tina said quietly.

“The painter? I’ve seen his work – not a big fun of abstract art.” Hank hummed, stroking his shaggy beard.

“Yeah, you probably know his son though – he was a buyer from this sad sack of shit.” Tina crudely gestured to Carlos, “From what Gavin told me, the old man kicked the bucket due to his son coming in unannounced and demanding his inheritance – kid was spooked though, high as a fucking kite too.”

“Is he being brought in?” Hank asked moving from the living room

“Yeah, but Carl just kicked the bucket – looked damn peaceful.” Tina winced, looking at the greying and bloated skin tone of the dead guy currently rotting in the room they were in. “Which is more than I can say about this guy.”

“Lead a shitty life, you get a shitty death.” Hank dismissed the body, getting all the information he could visually alone – walking to the kitchen where is partner was – looking at the knocked over chair and the blood marks.

“The struggle seems to have started in the kitchen, there was some broken handcuffs in the bathroom – whoever Carlos was keeping here got out, and got to the kitchen.” Samuel explained, pointing out each point of action that he theorized that occurred.

Hank stared at the bloody bat – the finger prints were already ran though the forensic team, Carlos attacked and injured his captive. His captive had fought back.

“Has anyone run prints for the guy that took out Carlos.” Hank hummed.

“On it right now.” One of the forensic guys had said, Hank was about to leave it at that but Tina gave him a sharp glance and back at Samuel. Hank could take a hint.

“Hey, Samuel – you got any idea where the attacker may have gone?” Hank asked, throwing the kid a bone – he looked so damn happy.

“They may have exited from the backdoor, I was just going to see if there is tracks out there.” Samuel answered and went on his way.

“Was it that hard?” Tina asked, gently clapping the others shoulder, walking off the assist the cops in the living room to take photographs.

“Yes.” Hank huffed quietly, getting ready to follow the other to make sure the other didn’t miss anything – but not before pausing as Samuel walked past a man standing in the hallway staring in the bathroom. Hank didn’t remember the other from the precinct, nor was the other in the police blues or the scrubs of the forensic team.

A lean figure with brunette hair with a thick curl at the crown of his head, pale skin dotted with freckles and chocolate brown eyes – he looked so out of place in this home, in his pressed suit and glinting ring on his left pinkie finger in the faint light that remained in the house. Just something about the other gave Hank the willies.

“Hey, you got some id champ?” Hank said lowly, the other turned – looking vaguely surprised at being called out by the other. Big brown eyes blinking owlishly, slowly pointing to himself.

“Yeah, I’m talking to you.”

“That’s interesting…very interesting.” The stranger hummed, Hanks eyes narrowing at how the quick shift of the others brown eyes drifted to above him.

“Interesting…?” Hank echoed back at the other, curiosity getting the best of Hank as his own eye line drifted upwards – a faint uneven surface and a faint taint of a hand print that had been pressed against it, it looked to be a manhole access to the attic but the pull down string had been long since cut away.

“Hey Hank, you all right?” Tina said, clapping the older officer suddenly on the shoulder. Hank startled, turned to the concerned expression on her face and sharply turned back to the now empty hallway.

“Hey, Tina did you see that guy there?”

“What guy?” Tina looked confused, looking to where Hank gestured quickly only to crock a brow at Hank.

“Gosh, you were just staring at nothing for a full minute...” Tina shook her head and walked off to discuss something with the forensics team not before shooting a comment at the still man, “Promise me you’ll talk to Fowler, you need some time off – you’ve been working too hard.”

The good advice was lost on Hank as he stared at the ceiling again – the hallway feeling a lot colder strangely, moving quickly to the spot under the grooved ceiling that the interloper was staring at in fount of that bathroom. The back of Hanks neck prickled like someone was watching him form that room, that room that the dead fucker did all types of messed up shit to other people – making a conscious decision not to turn directly around, he sharply turned and made his way back to the kitchen.

That sensation of dread crawling down his spine made him want to leave the murder scene all together, the budding sensation of a panic attack was rearing its ugly head – he hadn’t had one of those since…Hank stopped that train of thought, it was not helpful to think of that now.

Samuel had returned from whatever job Hank asked him to do, to make the other feel useful – entering back from the backyard to announce his discovery only to freeze when Hank grabbed one of the scattered kitchen chairs roughly.

“Lieutenant?” Samuel blinked a little stupidly at his superior as the other was grabbing evidence so roughly and moving it without explanation. Hank ignored him, and ignored the unease that began to bubble up again down that hallway and the sensation of eyes on him.

“Lieutenant, I must implore you to keep the evidence in its proper place!”

“Samuel, did you see tracks left by the attacker in the backyard?”

“Well no but – “

“And did you notice any tracks on the outside.” Hank demanded from the other, any prints leaving the house.

Samuel finally seemed to follow Hanks train of thought as he allowed the other to set up the chair to allow him to attempt to pull or shift the attic entrance open, he stood on the chair – it wobbled, trying to stabilize the weight and shift of gravity, but it was stable enough for Hank to stand up and place his two palms against the surface.

He tried to shift the attic entrance, but couldn’t as if there was something heavy sitting upon it – the wood itself strained under the force Hank tried to use, like many feet or hands were pressing against it. Hank grunted in irritation, pulling his hands away only to freeze at the red stains against them. Like he was pressing against something blood soaked, they looked like how his hands looked that night, in that accident…

“Lieutenant?!” Samuel said panicked, Hank could feel his vision blacking out around the edges briefly – the others panic seemed to bring the older cop to his senses and steady himself again.

“Lieutenant…are you okay?”

“Quit your mothering, it isn’t appreciated kid.” Hank snapped, and it was then he wished he could take back those words at the expression on the others face – he did feel a little bad about that.

“I can get Tina if you would prefer.” Samuel said

“What I’d prefer is for this damn door to open…” Hank muttered, rubbing his hands against the sides of his legs – the stain not coming off even though it felt still so wet. Both of them freezing at the loud thump that was heard and the sound of footsteps making the thin ceiling creak. The escapee and quite possibly the attacker were right above them.

* * *

Connor stared at the shadowy figure that had many hands and feet pressing down the attic door – the creature seemed to be the shadowy remnants of humanoid figures all stuck and twisted together in agony, inky bodies bubbled and oozed the rancid smelling congealed blood that fell and stained the ground where it stood. The thick clumps that fell, twitched and writhed like maggots before soaking the timber flooring – its white, dead like eyes gaping and milky like a rotten fish and jiggered mouth was dripping.

**_“Stayoutstayoutstayoutstayout…”_ **many voices hissed all at once, screaming at the shaking door beneath them. It shifted its attention back to the standing figure, a human with cigarette burns on his arm had collapsed the moment he entered the attic – clutching his chest like a heavy pressure was pressing down on him.

“Let him go” Connor demanded of the other, “The humans are here to help him.”

_**“helphimhelphimhim… where were they to help us?!”**_ they bellowed, equal in rage, sadness and desperation. Rounding on the man with the defensive stance in fount of the defenseless man who had been through so much already, the contorted mishmash of human suffering staggered towards them.

“Maintaining possession of him will not bring back what you lost.” Connor tried to reason with the angry souls, but to no avail. They seemed interested in the living cops below them, their rage at not living – of them failing them, coming too late for them. “You are making it worse for yourselves.”

**_“We have some un-finished business reaper…we will not leave with you.”_ **It snarled at Connor, **_“We have had enough of your platitudes, we hunger so.”_**

“Your families have mourned for you, your killer and abuser are dead – if that hasn’t appeased your restless souls, you are treading a dangerous line between turning down a dark path and there is no escaping that” Connor tried to reason, “Let the death of just one wicked human be your sentence in the afterlife.”

It growled, hackles raising – it’s steps heavy and wet sounding; to others the mere sight of such a twisted mess would bring disgust but Connor, in his very limited ability could only feel pity for such an abomination.

**_“Ithurtsithurtsithurts…and they will hurt to.”_** It deepened its tone, losing all human quality in an instant as it bellowed that threat and charged screaming at the reaper, the junk that the attic was flung away like it was nothing – an invisible force smashing and sending the odd bits and pieces. Connor stood his ground, the ring on his pinkie was slowly removed just at the point when the creature opened its maw wide to have elongated arms covered in graying, corpse like skin – reaching for him and the unconscious human with its bent and broken looking fingers, to devour them, to possess them.

A few things happened at once, the flash of silver and an impressive swing had a platinum or silver scythe sink though the side of the mass that was best described at the head of the beast – slicing though the gaping maw and neck, locking it in place with its many hands outstretched which trembled as it let out a low hiss. Clumps of inky blackness began to fall and drip from the source of impact

“Foolish, you know what I am and what this means for you, what I don’t understand is why you freed the captured human – unless…” Connor muttered, brown eyes were blown out almost black and the congealed blood of the souls writhed and grasped at the scythe that sliced through them – trying to pull back the mass to keep its shape or trying to remove the weapon.

“Deep down you didn’t want him to end up like you.” Connor said sharply, taking that opportunity to slice though the other completely – the mass began to fall apart, sticky sinew that held them together was revealed to be a mix of sticky tar and human hair. Like how a rat king is formed, by hair or sticky sap binding the rat tails together – human souls, if many exist in the one place and they have died though severe trauma they often gather in their shared experience.

However, a very human feeling or urge to find in comfort in those who had horrible things that happened to them – desperately clutching together had left their souls mangled and twisted together, loosing themselves in their sadness and rage.

**_“…He cried, like how we cried.”_** The mass seemed to de-tangle, the human bodies becoming individual and their own mind returning violently – the ink and blood still tainted their bodies, a mix of woman, men and children slumping in the spreading puddle of blackness. The amalgamation seemed to be made of the previous victims, all being killed in the same place had made this house a breeding ground of contempt and hatred – about ten till had obvious humanoid forms, the remaining gasped, gurgling in pain as limbs had been twisted and elongated to horrifying proportions like taffy.

_“I couldn’t take it anymore.”_ It was a child’s voice that answered Connor, the smallest shaped soul seemed to be in the middle of the mass, the larger ones continued to weep to themselves and claw blindly at their melting forms and watching as it seeped back into the floorboards – the horrifying realization that the older spirits were probably surrounding the child’s spirit in an attempt to protect the smaller one was not lost on Connor

They had no notable features, only the shadowy shape of a child – like featureless mannequins but made from inky blackness.

_“I miss my mummy; I miss my daddy…”_ The child said, turning their head to the still shaking attic door – the police still trying to get in and to the fading black stains where the other souls disappeared back into the nether. The outside mass of bodies took the brunt of the power of the scythe, leaving just the core – the heart of the beast so to speak.

_“I’m just so tired.”_ The child muttered, voice trembling as it did.

Such a violent beast a moment ago, driving the unconscious human to attack and murder their abuser in such a final act – the disgusting human left rotting had been already taken away by his brother into the burning maw where suffering would know no end for him but the victims would be punished as well.

The weight of murder, no matter if it is justified is a weighty one and will drag a soul to the very depths of the nether – a barren place in between where most humans spend a few hundred to one thousand years before they are deemed cleansed to be reborn into the mortal realm. And this is where the child and family would be sent, Connor raised his scythe again – the child seemed to accept their fate as they looked at the reaper bravely uttering their final request.

_“Find my body and bury me with my parents, I think they are buried in the backyard but I don’t know where I am buried…”_ The child voice drifted off at the end, Connor thought it was a little girl, she seemed so small and innocent. Connor mouth was pressed in a tight line at that, he wasn’t entirely sure how he would be able to but perhaps he could direct the police to the bodies to offer some comfort for the souls and their long wait ahead before being reborn back in the world that wronged them – Connor thought of the human that had seen him below, those who catch a glimpse of him without him intending to be seen; it took the reaper by surprise though it didn’t stop the rising curiosity and concern at the others sense of the embodiment of death. He seemed to be a good man but reapers were forbidden to directly intervene with humans but what his brother and Amanda didn’t find out – well, its not like he is being challenged by a mortal to cheat death.

But thinking back to the graying officer, It didn’t take a reaper to see the heavy burden and guilt weigh down the other man but it did take one to see the clinging shadow – a child’s shadow, attempting to hide in the older cops own the moment it caught Connor staring at it.

“The little boy…” Connor began, the smaller spirit tilted her head at that, “Bring him out too, so I can send you off together”

_“Little boy?”_ She muttered, though tone becoming distant when she realized who he was talking about, _“He came with the man, he did not die here like us… the man who demands to be called lieutenant – he will die soon.”_ She said, not so much as a threat but more so of a matter of fact.

_“And he will become like me, like us….”_ The spirit finished plainly, _“Whether that boy intends to drain him or drive him to a grave as well, the sickness is spreading quickly though the human’s body and mind.”_

“…” Connor stared at the sitting spirit.

_“After all, that is why he saw you.”_ The girl continued, _“He smells of death, he will lure other spirits to him with that scent.”_

Connor raised his scythe again; the spirit didn’t even flinch when it sliced though its barely tangible form. When the soul disappeared finally, the gasping breath of the human on the floor cleared – like a weight had gone with it. He blearily blinked, looking out of it as he stared at the reaper that stood before him – clutching his arm with all the cigarette burns, perhaps just realizing he is covered in blood.

” What…happened…” He looked wildly around, “Where’s the little girl…” the injured human finally took a good look at Connor who still had his scythe out. He paled and stuttered, but thankfully didn’t scream before his eyes rolled backyards and collapsing in a dead faint. Connor looked to his scythe which melted away, winding silver snakes returning and minimizing back to the band of platinum that returned to unassuming form of his ring just in time in when the attic door was forced open as the force that was holding it down but as soon as the flash of flash lights were seen searching the damaged attic - Connor was gone.

* * *

TBC?

please leave a comment or kudos.


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